Thank You
by Seadrance
Summary: - "Thank you." - An Uchiha girl's last moments and final words to her executioner. - "I'm sorry." - His hesitation, his thoughts, his words to her. OC. Spoilers if you squint. Two-shot.
1. Thank You

**Okay. I'm not dead. You can all stop mourning now... (Just lemme delude myself a little, kay?)**

**This idea has been bugging me (much like Itoko was) and therefore, I am posting the result. This does have the potential to be continued, if you're curious about spoiler grins**

**Oh, that reminds me. For those of you who aren't up-to-date on the manga, and don't wanna be spoiled (even a little, cos they're tiny spoilers that aren't really spoilers... more like hints of spoilers), don't read this -- although I'd love it if you would :P**

**I'm trying to figure out some kinks in Itoko, so I haven't updated just yet - but I'm on a writing kick at the moment, so if you don't bug me too much, I will update :P (Again with the deluding).**

**Title: **Thank You

**Summary: **_An Uchiha girl's last moments and final words to her executioner. OC, obviously. Spoilers if you squint._**  
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**Warnings: **Mild Spoilers... I think that's it? Oh, and an OC.**  
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**Pairings/Characters: **Er... no pairings really. Itachi, mentions of Sasuke, but if focuses on my OC -- yeah, bad habit... so what? I like OCs!**  
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**Word Count: **1100 words

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She would be lying if she said that she wasn't shaking, she would be lying if she said she wasn't sobbing with fear, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't just a little grateful. Sure, she wasn't particularly happy that he was killing her entire family – his entire family – but at least she didn't have to choose anymore.

Konoha was her home, she had been born and raised there, after all, she loved the village and its people – but the Uchiha Clan was her family. She had their blood thrumming in her veins, flowing quickly with her fear. She had the potential to unlock the famed Sharingan, though not the desire. She was, despite being only ten years old, privy to secrets she probably shouldn't be. She knew, through the knowledge gained from being a shopkeeper's daughter – and often his assistant – that everything was not sweet smells, bunny rabbits and roses between Konoha and the Uchiha.

She was old enough to notice and question the lingering, unreadable looks she got sometimes – the looks the older villagers gave her when she laughed and dragged her friends around the streets during festivals. She was old enough to notice the murmurs passing between her customers, the whispers of a plot she wanted no part in.

Yet, by merely hearing those words, she was a part of it. She was torn between loyalty to the village that, despite its mistrust of her clan, had nurtured and protected her. She was torn between the smiling old man who had paused in the street to offer her a trinket at one of those festivals and the mother who swept her into a hug when she was sad, the father who gave her a few coins to buy sweets, the cousins who played with her.

But she knew what she was going to say when it was her turn, when he pressed the blade to her throat – or would it be a shuriken? A kunai, perhaps? Would he even bother to come in close and use that sharp, terrible blade on her as he had their kinsmen? – she knew exactly what she'd say.

She had a million questions to ask – why? Why are you doing this? Why are you betraying your clan? Why can't it be different? Why do _we _pay for their power-hungry mistakes? _Why_? – but what she intended to say wouldn't be a question.

Would he even give her time to speak, or would her blood stain the floor around her, as her parents' had done back in her humble little house, before she had the chance? Would she see his face? Would she be able to read his eyes, see the face of her executor before she saw nothing more?

She didn't even hear him, she just saw him. He was bathed in moonlight, the Sharingan her Clan prized so much whirring and stony. His face was young, drawn tightly – God, he looked so young. He looked so... cold – the premature lines that framed his eyes at just thirteen created an interesting contrast in the light.

He was covered in blood already – she wondered if he knew how many lives he'd taken so far, how many he still had to take before he was the only one with the Uchiha blood in his veins – but it didn't suit him. It didn't suit the boy who had come into her shop and bought a pack of bubblegum because his baby-faced little brother was crying. It didn't suit the smiling, peaceable boy she'd seen walking hand-in-hand with one of their cousins.

It didn't suit the boy who had shown her the way home when she got lost that one time, looking for something she couldn't even remember now; who patted her on the head and smiled a bare hint of a smile when she started sniffling.

He was slow about it, when he saw that she met his gaze head-on. He strode forwards like a man approaching a skittish beast – unsure if it would flee or simply watch warily. She wanted to run, but it was pointless.

And she had something to tell him before... before she joined her family forever.

The blade glistened a sickening red, the silver-white of the moon almost mocked by it, yet he didn't slice it through flesh, listen to her organs squelch and her last chokes and gasps. He didn't slash it mercifully through her throat, cutting off the hysterical sobs and watch her eyes glaze over.

He just stared a moment, and she stared back, wondering how she could hold his eyes so calmly when every part of her was screaming to run, her chest was heaving with sobs and her limbs trembled.

She stood up, shaking still, and nearly lost the battle against running. Her eyes never left his.

She smoothed her hair out of her face – she had always been rather paradoxical about her hair. She was self conscious (no-one else in the clan had such light brown hair, they were known for their charcoal hair and eyes), but she was also proud. It made her unique in a way that was not ninja skill or power or wealth – and swiped at her tears.

She sniffled one more time – and oh Gods she wished he would smile and pat her head, that silent 'you're okay.' hanging unsaid – and steadied her voice. He seemed to acknowledge that she wanted to say something – why else would he not just get it over with? Surely he wasn't enjoying watching her sob like a four-year-old?

However, she seemed to have waited too long, because he vanished in a flicker, and she felt him behind her only a moment later. She wasn't sure that her words even reached his ears, they were spoken so softly.

"Thank you."

He hesitated a mere moment, as though shocked by what she had said, but it was only a moment – a bare fraction of a second. From his lips – the same lips she'd seen curved into that unique, rare smile. The same lips she'd seen pressed against his girlfriend's cheek in farewell. The same lips that had demonstrated how to blow a bubble for his brother – words she did not comprehend fell. Words that only had meaning as a starburst of pain shocked her, and darkness was flooding her vision, stealing her senses.

And then she was gone.

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**Ah-ha! Now, for those of you who are curious about _what _****Itachi said to her, and how on earth I could continue this (although it's kinda obvious where I could go with it) leave a review asking me to do so.**


	2. I'm Sorry

**Please keep in mind that this IS the end of Thank You, but not the end of Her story, necessarily. After thinking about it for a while, and debating whether or not to post a second part, I decided to change my original plans for what Itachi said to her -- this is not the ending I had in mind when I orignally came up with the idea. If y'all ask, I will post the alternate ending as a seperate story (which, by the way, will only differ from this one by a few paragraphs at the end).**

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He tried to ignore the feeling of blood smearing up his face as he brushed a stray lock of hair from his face. It felt like tangible betrayal – the evidence of his treachery. The choice had ached in his gut and worn at his senses for so many days before he had chosen. His clan or his home: that was the choice that presented itself to him.

And he had chosen his home, the village he would leave behind to protect it, the village he would likely never see again. He knew that on his dying day he'd stare up at the sky – or would he be face down in the dirt, as several of his clan had been when he let them fall, lifeless, to the ground? – and regret that he had not died in Konoha. He knew he would die with his home thinking him a traitor, but somehow, it was worth it.

Was it? He wasn't really sure, but he had to tell himself it was, or he wouldn't have the guts to finish this.

He had kept track until he hit murder eighteen. He had remembered the looks on their faces and felt a wrench of guilt at their expressions, but only until the eighteenth had fallen. After that, he couldn't let himself remember them all. It was too much, and the guilt of his clan remaining faceless victims of his sword was less than knowing they had seen his face.

He took a shaky breath – so far, the other had been the one to kill the children, he had escaped that torture. He knew that every petrified child's face would remind him of his brother, remind him that soon, his brother would look at him with those same eyes, that same expression. That would be the hardest part – knowing his brother's blood stained his soul forever.

On silent feet, he landed before her. She was the first child he would kill that night, the first truly innocent person he would kill – somehow, he could tell himself that none of them were innocent, but the children… He couldn't convince himself they were guilty.

And so, when she looked at him with fear in her teary, coal-black eyes, he froze and stared.

She didn't move for several moments – spare the hysterical shaking and sobbing – but then she was shifting onto her knees, stumbling upright and standing unsteadily. She made a soft, pathetic sound, and brushed her medium-brown hair from her face with an ironic impatience.

He wondered, for just a moment, what he looked like to her – did she see a madman? A vicious killer with naught but malicious hate for his own family? Did she even see him at all, or was she blinded by her own fear? It would certainly explain the way she just looked at him, unmoving.

She was familiar and he tried to place her in his memory, though that was a difficult task when he was trying not to remember anything – it made things easier.

It came to him though, the familiar face, full, trembling lip and wide, coal-coloured eyes. Her name escaped him, but the blast of memories surrounding her broke his trance.

He could remember several things about her, but the way she had smiled at his brother and played in the snow with them both at Christmas – admittedly just one of many Uchiha children who had taken part in the Great Snowball War – stood out. She had caught him by surprise with a quick, hard snowball to the face, and giggled childishly when he chased her to exact his revenge.

Before he could let himself dwell on it, think about it any more, he flickered forwards, behind her in just milliseconds. He felt her tense unconsciously, and raised his sword once more, ready – no, no, he was _never_ ready, he would never let himself be _ready_ – to grant her quick passage to join her loved ones.

"Thank you."

He froze again, the words plucking some chord deep inside him, but then he moved before he could let his pacifistic side get the best of him again. His sword wasn't all that moved, his lips let fall the two words he had been aching to say every time.

"I'm sorry."

And then blood splattered against his face, and he caught her as she fell. She would face the sky in death, even if he might not have the same luxury.

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**Ick... this came out WAY too wordy... Sorry, please forgive me. Hope you enjoyed it, though.  
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